


Mormor blurbs

by effingbirds



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effingbirds/pseuds/effingbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some random baby Mormor one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Because

“Jim,” he called, and received only silence in response.

“Jim. Jimmy. Jim.”

Nothing, still.

“Jiiiiim. Pumpkin. Baby. Sweetie.”

“Sebastian, do you _need something_?” Jim snapped, finally turning away from his computer screen.

“Yes,” Sebastian answered, cupping Jim's cheek in his hand, and leaning in for a soft kiss.

“That's it, carry on.”

Jim swatted at him as he walked off, but a small smile crossed his face for a moment as he went back to work.


	2. Sebastian of the Dead

“I've always wanted to be in a zombie apocalypse.”

“This is such romantic pillow talk, Sebastian,” Jim said, hitching the sheets up around his shoulders.

“Wouldn't you enjoy that, though? Most of the world dead, or effectively dead. No law. No civilization.”

“What's the fun in that, though?”

“You can go around doing whatever you want! How is that not fun?”

“Darling, I don't know if you've noticed this or not, but I do pretty much whatever I want as it is. I don't need the world to fall apart for that. Furthermore, I like being the one creating the chaos... not the one trying to survive it.”

Sebastian sighed and pressed his face against Jim's neck, reveling in the smell of sweat on his skin, even though he was being a massive pain in the arse.

“I see your point, though,” Jim said, reaching over to scratch his nails against Sebastian's scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Well, of course. It would be perfect for you. Stalking through cities, hunting your favorite prey. Assuming you didn't get bitten or whatever.”

“I wouldn't.”

“So you say. And of course, you'd have to protect me.”

“Oh please. You'd probably be the one who started it all. You'd either be the first one infected, making sure to place yourself in the dead center of London so you could infect as many people as possible, or you'd be the one creating the virus that started everything, and you'd lock yourself in some secure tower, cackling like a mad scientist as humanity destroyed itself.”

“Well,” Jim said, yawning, “I have to keep my pet entertained somehow.”


	3. You look lovely in green, darling.

He wasn't jealous, or so he told himself. He would, however, admit that he was worried. He had no sexual interest in women whatsoever, but that was definitely not the case with Jim. Jim liked skin, and warm bodies, and he wasn't particularly inclined toward either gender. He just did whatever and whomever he pleased.

Sebastian was sure that since they'd been together, Jim hadn't been with anyone else. But that fact did nothing to quiet the little niggling voice in Sebastian's head that suggested that maybe Jim had tired of sex with him, and was interested in a little something on the side. Something in the form of a shy, easily-flustered girl who spent her days in the company of corpses and irritating detectives.

Now, Sherlock. There was someone who made Sebastian feel jealous. Even though Jim seemed to feel nothing but contempt for the horse-faced, boorish man who'd spoiled some of his best plans, he was obviously fascinated with him on an intellectual level. And though Sebastian wasn't a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, when it came down to a battle of wits between Jim and Mr. I Observe Everything, there was no way for Sebastian to compete.

Sebastian didn't like the idea of Jim using this Molly woman to dig himself deeper into the shitshow that was Sherlock Holmes. In fact, he'd be much happier if Jim would just let him shoot Sherlock, and his little golden retriever friend, and be done with the whole thing.

And more than anything, he'd be much happier if Jim wasn't off on some date with that godawful woman (really, anyone who had a lurid pink website and used Comic sans was not worth anyone's time, especially not Jim's), hanging around her flat and watching terrible American television programs. Teenagers belting out bad pop songs wasn't exactly an aphrodisiac to Jim (or at least, Sebastian hoped not) but he wasn't sure exactly how far Jim would go to play his little game with Sherlock.

So he spent the evening trying not to think about it. He ate dinner, called people to arrange some jobs for Jim, and tried to get a little writing in. But by 11pm Jim still wasn't home, and as much as he tried to ignore it, he was feeling more and more anxious about whatever Jim might be doing.

He was on the sofa playing an excessively violent video game when Jim came through the door. He turned to assess Jim's mood, but his posture and facial expression gave away nothing.

“How was your date?” he asked, shutting off the video game.

“Oh, awful.”

“Awful?”

“Yes, are you going deaf?”

Sebastian sighed, and followed Jim into the bedroom.

“What was so awful about it?”

“Everything. I don't even want to talk about it, Sebastian.”

He leaned on the frame of the bathroom door, and watched as Jim prepared to brush his teeth. Jim ignored the fact that he was being stared down as he went about his nightly routine.

“You were there a long time,” Sebastian said, as Jim washed his face.

Jim dried his face, and then turned toward Sebastian, giving him a look that made him feel as though his very soul was being examined. He hated when Jim's most intense gazed was fixed upon him.

“You think I fucked her,” Jim concluded, finally. He seemed amused at the thought.

“What? No I don't.”

“Yes you do! Oh god, Sebastian, you are just precious.”

He felt his face heating up as Jim laughed at him.

“What the hell am I supposed to think, Jim? You haven't been terribly forthcoming with information about this grand scheme of yours, and then you spend an evening at the flat of some girl, and _then_ you refuse to talk about it!”

Jim's laughter stopped, though Sebastian could tell it was taking everything he had to contain it.

“Darling, why would I fuck that mousey woman when I can come back home and fuck you instead?”

“Oh yeah, that makes me feel loads better. The best way to make someone feel secure in _whatever the fuck this relationship is_ is to remind them that they're just a fuck toy to you.”

“Is that what you really think?” Jim asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“That's what I know.”

“Jesus Christ, you are so simple sometimes. Think for just one moment about how many people in my organization don't even know who I am. Or hell, that I even _exist_. And here you are, watching me change my clothes, ready to climb into bed with me like you have every night for two years. You think that I'd ask a mere fuck toy to live with me? You think I'd trust anyone else that much? I don't even socialize with other people outside of work, and yet here I am with you.”

“You socialize with Molly.”

“No, Sebastian, Jim Zucco socializes with Molly. You're the only person who gets the real me.”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on his feet as Jim pushed past him into the bedroom.

“What about Sherlock, then?” Sebastian asked, because if he was going to reveal one ridiculous insecurity tonight, he might as well put the other one out there as well.

“What about him?”

“Well do you... I mean... I realize you don't exactly want to be friends with him, but...”

“I want to destroy him, Sebastian. He's interesting, but he's also a thorn in my side. I want him destroyed, and I want you to help me do it. You're the only person I trust with this.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_. I'm not going to coddle you. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I love you, and stroke your bruised ego. Because you really should know by now how I feel.”

“...So...”

“So, in short, Sebastian you're being ridiculous. Now stop whining and come nail me into the mattress.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, removing his shirt, “if you insist.”


End file.
